


Drift and the Geisha Doll

by LordGrimwing



Series: No Home Stories [10]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Geisha Doll, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Drift repairs a Geisha Doll and gets a surprise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by all of these
> 
> http://herzspalter.tumblr.com/post/80612266663/herzspalter-carrying-your-boyfriend-on-your  
> http://herzspalter.tumblr.com/post/76032324190/hes-tired-of-your-shit-drift-i-thought-i  
> http://herzspalter.tumblr.com/post/74436197015/im-tired-and-theres-no-way-in-hell-this-hasnt  
> http://68.media.tumblr.com/544d39fd52927dd43e33f630822e3877/tumblr_mzxxofdADq1rpzx4to1_400.png  
> http://68.media.tumblr.com/848e3ccb512e1727a071b38be0a00916/tumblr_n0p34ea3LP1tqa5i9o2_1280.jpg  
> http://herzspalter.tumblr.com/page/163

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Perceptor?”

“I don’t know. But. . .” And here Rodimus dropped the red and white robed _thing_ into Ultra Magnus’s hands. “Take it to Drift. He’ll know . . . probably.”

[Drift’s quarters]

“I think it’s a geisha doll.” Drift said, gently setting the humanoid mannequin on his recharge slab. “But her face is broken.”

“Regardless,” Ultra Magnus rumbled, “The captain wants you to deal with it. We’re still looking for the rest of the missing crew.”

Drift looked up, optics hopeful. “Are you sure? I think I’d be better suited to assisting the sear-”

“No.” The large bot turned away. “Remain here.”

Sighing, Drift sat next to the odd doll. “Let’s try and get you fixed little thing.”

[Two hours later]

“Much better.” Drift assured the limp doll as he carefully glued the last bit of its cracked face. “Don’t you agree?” He asked rhetorically, moving away to returned the repair tools Perceptor gave him back in their Wrecker days.

By the time he turned around, the doll no longer lay on his desk.

“What the scrap?” The delicate thing couldn’t have fallen, he’d made sure to lay it far away from the edge. He checked under the desk out of caprice. There the doll sat, silk covered knees drawn up to its chin, tiny hands trying to hid its painted face.

Drift, slightly learned in ideas of the supernatural (or unexplainable acts of Primus, as Wing called them), slowly sat, extending a black servo to the doll-like being and cueing softly. “Shhh. Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong. I mean you no harm.”

Its head lifted timidly. “None?”

“Not at all.” Drift smiled as the little being reached for his servo, tiny fingers disappearing as he closed his and helped it clamber from under the desk.

“You’re an Autobot?!” It exclaimed, narrow eyes looking onto the insignia on his chest.

“Yes.” He replied hesitantly, unable to tell if the formerly inanimate doll was glad or scared. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay! It’s terrific!.” The little thing clapped its hands. “I’m an Autobot too! An organic accidently stuck me inside Nijika, an exploration machine he made, when we crashed onto his planet. I must be reunited with the rest of my team and my body as quickly as possible.”

Drift didn’t know what to say, other than, “W-what’s your name?”

“Perceptor. Why?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeartsGuardianSol, ShadowShade, you two asked for more so here you have it. 
> 
> That's about sums up all my ideas for this, so if you want another chapter you'll need to leave me some ideas to work with.

“Does it ever bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“That most bots around here can pick you up without even trying?”

Rewind leaned back on his stool, syringe of energon momentarily forgotten on the table. “Not really. I actually wish Chromedome did more.” The datastick giggled, looking across the bar to where said mech laughed with Skids, Brainstorm, and Nautica.

“Oh.” Perceptor followed his companion's gaze, silken robes spilling over the stool he precariously knelt on.

“Does it bother you?” Rewind asked, red helm light flashing on. “Drift doesn’t seem to mind.”

The animated doll sighed, sliding a proclin finger over the counter top. “No, no. But I am a renowned scientist. I don’t need to be helped around a spaceship!”  

Rewind snorted.

Perceptor stared at him blankly from behind a heavily painted face. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re upset.” The smile was audible.

“No I’m not!” The small red and white robed doll exclaimed, then squeaked, slipping backward off the stool.

“Gah!” Rewind peered over the edge of his own stool, calling down to the slightly stunned being. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” Perceptor sat up. “But I think my chang-ao tore.” 

Rewind jumped from his seat, landing next to his companion and extended a servo to help up Perceptor. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah,” The little scientist examined the tare. “I kind of like this.”

“Oh, I know!” Rewind ran for the exit, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll go get Drift, he’ll be able to fix it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that Drift, Skids, and Nautica are never on the Lost Light together. But, hey, this is an AU. I can do what I want.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isame wondered what happened to MTMTE Perceptor, so I wrote this little thing. Kind of ran out of motivation quick. But I have little idea for next one thanks to a comment.
> 
> As Always feel free to leave ideas.

Suddenly, the small load Cyclonus snatched from the ground became much heavier and . . .  bigger. “By the seas of Kaon!” The Decepticon exclaimed as the combined weight of his own frame and the large mech he now held became more than his thrusters could handle.

“The frag?!”

A fist then firmly planted itself into the purple mech’s chin. His vision blanked out.

[An hour later]

“How-can-you-be-Perceptor-we-know-Perceptor-and-he-isn’t-you-not-one-bit-nope-nata-not-at-all.” Blurr said, gesticulating wildly whilst pacing the bridge of the quintonian vessel he, Rodimus Prime, Ultra Magnus, and the stranger-who-almost-literally-fell-from-the-sky commondered.

“Nor I you.” The large, armored bot murmured, polishing one of his blasters. “And as soon as we get to your Cybertron I’m finding a way home.”

“Not to put a damper on things,” Ultra Magnus interjected. “But our recent adventures time and or dimension travel haven’t been so straightforward.”

“Obviously you did have a renowned scientist around.”

“Never-mind-he’s-totally-Perceptor-all-the-way-one-hundred-percent-Perceptor.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverheart asked for this. I hope it's good.
> 
> Drift really needs a friend.
> 
> Always feel free to ask for more. :)
> 
> Anyone think I should add more tags, characters or otherwise?

“Drift.”

“-You hold it like this so it pours slowly, and if you really want-”

“Drift.”

“Yes? Am I going too fast?” Drift set down the tiny white tea pot. “I can show you again.”

“No no. It’s just,” Perceptor sighed, black haired head turned downward. “I’m thankful to you and Swerve being so thoughtful about my needs, but--well--don’t you think this is a little much?”

Drift looked down at the dainty white tea set araide between them. “No. But if it embarises you, I’ll just . . .” He reached for the plane box he’d pulled the set out of almost half an hour earlier.

“Drift . . .” Perceptor’s already small voice softened. Reaching over, placing a tiny hand atop Drift’s large one, the beautifully robed doll looked up into his saddened eyes. “No. I don’t mind, not really. But how am I to carry these things around? My arms are not big enough.”

The white and red mech brighted, finials perking up. “I can carry them for you!” He grin at the little being. “Then we could refuel together. It’d be a time for us to talk! Does that sound good?”

Perceptor couldn’t say no to that excited face.

[In Swerve's Bar]

“What the scrap is this?” Whirl poked at teapot softly steaming on the table.

Swerve paused in shining a cube. “Drift called it a kettle.”

“And what--exactly--does it do?” The ex-Wrecker snapped a pincher in the steam.

“Warms up energex.” Swerve shrugged. “Drift thought it was a good idea.”  

Whirl’s eye curved. “That’s stupid.” Yet he waited around until Drift and Perceptor showed up and watched how they used the little white set.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isame asked for holomatter forms and comparisons of G1 and MTMTE characters. Here you go. Just as a quick warning, the only IDW cannon stuff I've actually read is MTMTE.
> 
> Oh look! A longer chapter!
> 
> Does anyone know how to make links on here?
> 
> Also should I be tagging more things?

 

“It’s called a holomatter avatar.”

“Ah! I’ve heard of something like this.”

“Brainstorm, our self-proclaimed ship’s genius, has put quite a lot of work into these things.”

“Intriguing.” Perceptor leaned forward, intently examining Drift’s holomatter. “And your actual body is just in the other room? This is just a projection?”

“Yeah.” The black haired man replied, spreading his robed arms. “A very tangible projection.”

Painted lips curving into a smile, the little scientist timidly touched the curse material that the other wore. “It seems so real.”

Drift, too, examined his appearance. “Sure feels that way.” He grinned at Perceptor. “Maybe we could talk with Brainstorm about getting one for you to use.” The warrior paused, eyes cast down. “He’s probably too busy though. ‘Storm’s had a lot more to do since our Perceptor disappeared.”

Perceptor looked down to, contemplating his dainty shoes for a moment. “I’ve gathered you and he are close.” Slowly, the little scientist sat, legs crossed, and patted the floor, indicating Drift should sit too.

“We were.” Drift took a moment to adjust his sword belt before taking his companion’s invitation.

“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Drift continued. “After the war ended, after things calmed down, the Wreckers were--well, we went our separate ways. We’ve our own ways of coping with what happened. They don’t always . . . work well together.”

“You know what I can’t believe?” Perceptor asked, feeling Drift’s growing melancholy and wishing to void what seemed to be a sore topic. “Rewind isn’t Blaster’s cassette! That’s so weird!”

Drift saw the switch but didn’t mind. “You think that’s weird?” He adjusted to better face his companion. “Our Rodimus literally broke the matrix, but your’s is still a legitimate Prime. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“And I can’t get how Tailgate says Ultra Magnus is an OCD control freak!” Perceptor exclaimed, little voice squeaking at the end. “He’s organized, but only efficiently so.”   

Laughing, Drift shook his head, ponytail bouncing around his shoulders. “Yeah? Well, I can’t get how your people like Prowl! Talk about controlling.”

Perceptor’s face fell this time. “Liked.” The silk robed doll corrected sadly. “Galvatron, or rather Megatron, killed him.”  

Silence filled the room. “I’m sorry.” Drift murmured, laying a strong hand on Perceptor’s slim shoulder. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to his memory.” And, he hadn’t. While Drift didn't care for the calculating mech, he’d heard enough of Chromedome’s stories to suppose that--under different circumstances--Prowl could be likable.

“That’s alright.” Perceptor touched Drift’s linen clad arm. “Every faction, in any world, losses valued members.”

The somber mode clung, and they lapsed into silence. Eventually, Drift’s duties as nominal third-in-command of the _Lost Light_ necessitated he return to his frame and depart. Perceptor sat alone, delicately shod feet toeing a scratch in the floor. After a while, Rewind poked his head into the room, asking if the little scientist wanted to help him and Chromedome go through video files. Of course, Perceptor agreed, though he remained unusually quiet.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should all thank my little sister for showing me how to retrieve 'lost' work on google docs. I was tempted to just say "Forget this!" But she saved the day.
> 
> Not as happy as I hoped for.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a while, but here's another short little something inspired by Isame.

“Ship’s genius speaking.”

“Perceptor! Your voice changed!”

“What?! No, the little doll’s not even part of the--Why Drift? First Rodimus and now you? It’s Brainstorm. I’m Brainstorm.”

“I knew that.” Drift laughed, leaning back on the captain’s seat. Rodimus and Magnus weren’t on the bridge. 

“Oh.” The weapons inventor murmured over the comm line, piqued slightly with annoyance. “What do you want? I and the doll are busy doing Science, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” The  _ Lost Light _ ’s nominal third-in-command idly traced around one of the symbols Rodimus etched into the chair’s arms. “I was just, ah, wondering how things are coming.”

Brainstorm snorted. “You mean you’re wondering how your new BFN is doing.”

“BFN?” The ex-con interrupted.

“Best Friend for Now.” The sneer was audible in the winged scientist’s voice. “Since you asked so kindly,” he continued before Drift could protest the BFN, “I’ll let you know that other than being weaker than a protoform and unable to work most of the equipment, the doll’s rather useful.” If properly translated, Brainstorm’s begrudging words reflected the genius’s slight admission of his temporary lab partner’s intellect.

Drift laughed. “Well, I hope you don’t get to attached to Perceptor: Magnus is adamant about getting our version back.”

“Maybe I’m not the one who needs to remember that.”

The comm went silent. 

“We’re about done down here.” Brainstorm muttered. “I doubt the doll has enough power to walk back to the main decks, and I’m sure not carrying the little thing.” Drift’s optic ridges lowered. “So you’d better get down here and pick your BFN up.” 

The comm cut off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drift, your life is hard.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A random picture of a boy in a mud puddle inspired this.

“It was horrifying.”

“Absolutely terrifying.”

“I’ve never been so dirty in my life.”

Mud splatters covered the floor of the wash rack as two of  _ The Lost Light _ ’s crew tried to quietly turn on the showers and remove the evidence of their misguided escapade out in the wild of the planet the ship currently sat on.

Brainstorm reached up, pulling down the retractable shower head to spray his tiny companion. “We are never doing that again.” The self proclaimed ship’s genius decried.

“Agreed.” Perceptor sighed, staring that robe that were never going to be white again. Grabbing a little scrub brush and bottle of soap, the doll-like mechanism clambered onto his partner-in-filth’s right ped and started cleaning the junk out from the gaps in his plating. “The lab is the safest place to do everything.”

Nodding, Brainstorm turned the spray on himself, focusing most of the stream on his legs. Perceptor didn’t seem to mind getting splashed with more solvent. “Yes, absolutely everything.”

“Next time I let you talk me into going out on a strange planet at night, slap me.” Perceptor demanded, climbing up to Brainstorm’s knee.

“I will.” The scientist reconsidered his words. “As long as you promise your ninja-of-protection won’t stab me for breaking your face or something.”

The small doll paused in cleaning. “One, Drift is not my ‘ninja-of-protection.’ He’s just making sure this primitive frame doesn’t break. It’s the only one I’ve got for now after all.” Perceptor started scrubbing under the jet’s hip plating. “Two, please don’t break my face.The universal emulator’s my only connection to this frame.”

“Whatever short stuff.” The pejorative wasn’t one of his best, but then, Brainstorm was getting scrubbed by the little thing.

“Don’t you ‘short stuff’ me.” Perceptor squeaked good naturedly. “I am a renowned scientist; show me some respect.” 

“Mmhm. Yeah. Whatever you-- Ow!” Brainstorm glared down at the innocent face staring up at him as tiny fingers pulled at hip tubing. “I’m sensitive down there.”

Perceptor’s red and white face lightened with a giggle. “I noticed. It’s really funny.” 

“You’re lucky you’re stuck in such a primitive frame,” Brainstorm warned, squinting down at his little assailant. “Or, I’d get back at you ten fold for that.”

Smiling, Perceptor silently returned to scrubbing. Brainstorm snatched a brush of his own.

By the time the pair finished washing, Perceptor’s clothing looked a hundred years older and Brainstorm had never felt cleaner. Hoping to still get the chance to review their preliminary data on the photosynthetic abilities of the little lightning-shooting bugs the filled the planet’s night skies. However, on the way back, Perceptor succumbed to his primitive frame and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I think it's time to and Brainstorm to the list of characters.
> 
> Any requests?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isame, somehow you manage to get me to come back to this story again and again (even if it takes me like two months).
> 
> No alien planets in this one, but Drift is gonna make Percy some new cloths.

“Do I look like a tailor?”

“Well . . . no.”

“You do have needles though.”

“Not helping, Rewind.” Chromedome muttered, looking up at the little mech perched on one of his shoulder wheels. The imp snickered.

“But you do have very skilled hands.” Drift interjected, hoping to get the moody mnemosurgeon to agree to think about his request.

“So does Ratchet.” The taller mech countered. “And Brainstorm, Nautica, Nightbeat, and Rung. Even Whirl: when he feels like it.” Chromedome’s long fingers flicked in a dismissing manor. “Go ask one of them for help.”

Drift’s finials drooped. Whirl would laugh in his face and then probably try to start a fight. While most of the others would probably help, Rung surely would question why Drift felt he had the need to replace Perceptor’s muck-stained robes when the little being made no complaint, Nightbeat and Nautica were veritable strangers, Brainstorm was the cause of the whole problem, and Ratchet . . . Well, Drift just didn’t feel like he could bare to be around Ratchet’s concerned/annoyed field for that long.

“Domey.” The archivist tapped on his conjux’s head. “You do posses a very careful touch. And you’re used to working with tiny, delicate, things.” 

Drift could almost see the gangly mech’s resolve dissipate under Rewind’s flattery.  “All very true.”  _ The Lost Light _ ’s nominal third-in-command added.

“Alright.” Chromedome visibly relaxed as he acquiesced to Drift (and Rewind). “Come to our hab room after fifth shift. I should have time to help you sow some new clothes for  Perceptor.”

“Thank you so much!” Drift smiled, waving goodbye to the pair as they continued on down the hallway. Rewind, kind bot that he was, waved back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always seen Chromedome as a really weak character (doesn't mean I don't like him) and I'm propably always going to write him as such in this story.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave requests whenever you want.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the longest chapter yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all the support Isame.
> 
> Sadly, I realized this is probably my most liked story. And it's not even one I plan out.

“Ratchet! This is . . . uh . . . a surprise.”

“I know we haven’t been on the best of terms as of late but I want you to bring Perceptor to the med bay.”

“Sure. Any reason why?”

Ratchet tried letting a softer tone inter his gruff voice. “Brainstorm said there was a slight accident in the lab earlier. I just want to make sure our little guest didn’t sustain serious damage; Perceptor’s internal repair systems are somewhat lacking at this time.” He said into the comm.

“Oh my word! I’ll bring him down right away.” Drift ended the transmission, no doubt dashing off to retrieve his friend-but-not-quite-really from Rewind and Chromedome’s hab room. The little archivist told Ratchet they were helping build the Perceptor a new set of clothes in their off time when his conjux came in for his last health check.

Knowing Drift would be there in only a few minutes, Ratchet set about finding his smallest set of tools. In all honesty, Brainstorm hadn’t said there was an accident in the lab (he probably never would admit to such a thing). No, Brainstorm told Ratchet something that was slightly more worrying than a minor accident. 

At some point during the scientists’ ill-advised escapade onto an organic planet, Perceptor fell face-first into a puddle of water. While the small bot didn’t seem to mind the tumble (“Such minor events must never interrupt the pursuit of knowledge!”), the universal emulator animating the mannequin had slipped out of place, morphing from the pointed face of a doll to a bright red autobot insignia. Brainstorm had to gently push the emulator back into the automaton's head before Perceptor could regain control of the primitive frame.

That wasn’t really what had Ratchet concerned for the ship’s surprise visitor. The problem was, according to Brainstorm’s not-quite-confident words, kept slipping out for seemingly no reason when Perceptor reached a moderate level of activity. Ratchet may not have dealt with a cause like this before, the bot in question was from a different universe after all, but he’d been around plenty long enough to have face more than a dozen cases of vital systems rejection. 

“Hey Ratchet.” Drift called, striding in with Perceptor wrapt in his arms. “We’re here.”

The little scientist complained in a muffled words. “Really Drift, this isn’t necessary. I am perfectly capable of walking myself to the medical wing, I’ve done it dozens of times.”

Internally, Ratchet rolled his eyes as he gestured to an exam table. This Perceptor had more similarities to theirs then most of the crew could spot. Brainstorm claimed, and Ratchet was inclined to believe him in this case, he’d suggested his temporary lab partner visit the medic multiple times. Each time Perceptor promised to do so, only later, upon pressing from Brainstorm, to claim to have totally forgotten all about it. Ten times was just a little much to be believable.

“What’s this all about?” Drift asked, gently setting Perceptor on the table. The swords mech’s electromagnetic field reached out slightly before quickly pulling back and wrapping tightly around himself. 

Ratchet looked down at the slightly annoyed scientist. “I need to talk with Perceptor. Alone.” He could tell Drift wanted to abject but at the medic’s stern look he turned on his heel and shuffled out into the hall. 

“I suppose you know why you’re here.”

Perceptor looked away. “I know. I am a renown scientist.” The painted face turned back to Ratchet’s “That’s why Brainstorm and I have been working so hard to undo what brought me here and bring your Perceptor back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting the chapter to go like this. The happy little bubble that is this story just burst. Sorry. 
> 
> Hugs? Anyone?
> 
> Suggestions help me write more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a long time.

“Blurr was almost bawling and I was like, ‘The sky is falling!’” 

“I-was-not-crying-not-at-all-it-just-startled-me.”

“Give it a break you two.” Jazz just about snapped at the squabbling young bots as he turned the object in question over and over in his hands. “You make human children look civilized.” The pair’s argument subsided with only a few more grumbles. “Now, since this showed up in a similar way as Mr. Know-it-all-scientist, I’d say we’d better take it to him.” Jazz decided, leaving his underlings to quietly return to their argument.

“What do you want?” The large red mech snapped as Jazz waltzed into the laboratory. “I’m busy.”

“Who’d have guessed?” Jazz muttered. He didn’t care for this Perceptor and not just because the huge bot made him feel small. “Two of the scouts found this.” He held up the oddly shaped, yellow case.

The heavily armored scientist grunted, not looking up from his work.

“Vector Sigma’s love.” Jazz huffed. The other universer was always like this. Every day. All day. Jazz seriously hoped his Perceptor wouldn’t pick up on any of this one’s habits while in the other universe. 

Rather annoyed, Jazz tossed the case onto the work desk, turning to leave.

“Hello? Hello?”

. . .

“Can anyone hear me?”

. . .

“This is Brainstorm, transmitting from--”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what to say about this. 
> 
> Say if you want to know/see more.


End file.
